


Cursed

by Jinx72



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Almost Drowning, Angst, Animal Transformation, Blood, Broken Bones, Buckle up, Dragons, Gen, It's Roman Angst Friendos, Kinda graphic descriptions of pain, Logan Has A Sword, Platonic LAMP - Freeform, Roman gets turned into a dragon, Roman-centric, The Imagination/Mindscape, get this man a hug, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16552928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinx72/pseuds/Jinx72
Summary: In a lovely picnic gone wrong, Roman gets whisked away by the Dragon Witch, only for her to curse him.Stuck in a new body and completely separated from his friends, Roman has to do his best to cope, and to find his way back in the hopes that his family can lift his curse.





	Cursed

He wasn’t sure in the slightest how this had happened. One moment, he and the others were having a lovely picnic in the Imagination that he’d invited them to. He’d been caught mid-laugh at one of Patton’s better jokes.  
Next minute, any semblance of peace was shattered by a thunder of dragons dive-bombing them from overhead.

Roman summoned his sword with a shout and leapt to his feet, running further into the open as a distraction. Dragons dove and scratched and nipped and buffeted him, but Roman doggedly kept moving. Logan was the only one with the wherewithal to move, dragging Patton and Virgil into the treeline for cover.  
Roman did his best to buy them time, hacking and slashing at the dragons who darted around him in a swirling, confusing mess. He stumbled in disorientation, shouting profanities to the sky. It didn’t matter if they hurt him; he just had to get them away. Away from his family.

The air shook with the painfully loud roar that heralded only one being. Roman froze in his place, jaw dropping in horror as he watched the enormous, glittering black mass of the dragon that could only be the mount of the Dragon Witch herself.

As the air shook from the mighty dragon’s wingbeats, the smaller dragons cleared, circling Roman from a distance, pinning him in as the Dragon Witch drew in closer.  
Roman took a steadying step back, and summoned himself a large, fireproof shield. He morphed his silk jacket into a white-and-gold scale armour breastplate, which still kept its trademark red splash of colour from shoulder to hip, and took a deep breath as the Dragon Witch drew closer. He adjusted his grip on his sword, and pointed it up at her. “Face me!” he shouted, and his voice carried across the meadow.  
The Dragon Witch smirked down at him, and her laughter rang out.  
Roman tried not to falter.  
He did his best to anticipate her next move, raising his shield in preparation.  
However, he could never have anticipated her dragon swooping down, and scooping him up with one gargantuan paw and taking off.  
He could vaguely hear someone screaming his name as the dragon’s talons closed around him.

Swallowed by darkness, Roman did his best not to panic in the tiny, cramped space the dragon’s fist left him. He tried to hack and slash his way out, but under a particularly hard blow, his sword shattered against the dragon’s scales. Roman couldn’t help but scream and cover his face as shards of metal ricocheted into his flesh. The scream didn’t stop when the pain dulled down. Roman found himself unable to control the scream as it keened on and on, taking up all the oxygen in this tiny space as the shock of whatever was happening to him began to hit home.

Roman had managed to rein in his voice, but he had nearly passed out by the time he was released. Dropped rudely, Roman hit hard stone with a painful _thump._ As he gasped for air, the black dots swimming across his vision cleared to see the Dragon Witch standing over him, smirking down at him. There was a calculated gleam in her eye.  
Roman’s throat tightened. He tried to scramble back.  
She lazily raised a hand, and shadows snaked their way out of the darkness and gripped his ankles and wrists, pinning him down.  
Roman fought. He fought his bonds wildly because he knew that if he dared to doubt his chances, he’d lose all hope.  
“Unhand me, you fiend!” he shouted, not letting the tremble of fear that was so prevalent all over his body enter his voice.  
She _laughed._ A bone-chilling, manic, _evil_ cackle that froze him solid. Her pale yellow eyes bore into his soul.  
Roman fought down the terror that was creeping into his throat.  
She reached forward with one hand, the scaly patches and wicked claws glinting in the dull light, and caught Roman’s chin. She turned his head this way and that, her serpent eyes calculating something incomprehensible. Her talons dug into his cheeks, drawing pinpricks of blood. Roman clenched his jaw.  
He did not like the look of that smirk on her face.  
Only when she began to chant in some lost magic did Roman begin to panic.

He wrenched his head away, wrenched at his bonds, trying anything, _anything,_ to free himself. She didn’t stop. She merely grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his eyes back up to hers as she continued the spell.  
His knowledge of magic was rudimentary at best, but Roman latched onto the words she was saying, in the hopes of formulating a counterspell. Most of the words meant nothing to him, but his muddled mind picked one out of the hissing mess.  
_“Transform.”  
_Oh. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, _no._

Roman opened his mouth to try literally anything; a charm or hex that might be able to save him because he didn’t want to go through what she wanted to do to him.

He was too late.

The hastily assembled spell never made it past his lips. A scream tore itself from the prince as the Dragon Witch’s spell began to take effect, punctuated by her shrill cackle.  
Roman threw his head back, howling in agony. It felt like his very form, the most basic layout of what he was, was melting and shifting; like his skeleton was being reshuffled with the carelessness of a child with a jigsaw puzzle.  
The sound Roman produced was not human.  
The ripping, tearing, crushing, stretching, burning, freezing, complete and utter _pain_ flooded his senses.  
Roman collapsed on the floor, sprawling across the cold stone. As he lost consciousness, Roman felt himself be picked up again. It faded away into the dark haze of pain before he could make any sense of it.

 

The first sensation Roman was aware of was _falling.  
_He forced his eyes open to see the forest below racing towards him at a breakneck pace. He cried out, flailing, _panicking._  
His floundering felt _wrong._ His limbs felt achy, clunky and _different._ Like they were the wrong shapes. Like they weren’t his.  
And calling on the powers of the Imagination –  
– did nothing.

For the first time in Thomas’ life, Roman was disconnected from the Imagination.  
A scream of genuine panic tore itself from his throat – and it sounded truly monstrous.

 

Roman hit the canopy with a painful _crunch._ Nothing felt like it broke, but the impact knocked the air out of the prince. He ended up in the dirt, shaking. He needed to get up. He needed to get back to the others.  
_Get. Up._

Roman forced himself onto his hands and knees, and had difficulty actually standing. Lurching upright, Roman stumbled. He caught himself on a tree.  
Roman found himself staring down at his hand – or where his hand should’ve been.  
Because what he was looking down at was a scaly dragon’s paw.

Roman shrieked again, falling backwards as he brought his hands to his face, only to see they weren’t hands at all. He fell onto all fours, sick to his stomach. He turned in circles on himself like a caged lion, desperately trying to see himself. His now long, serpentine neck gave him plenty of mobility to do so.

His scales were white and gold, with a diagonal slash of red scales across his chest from shoulder to hip – like his sash.  
A tail. He had a _tail._  
It felt awful. Having a new limb, so suddenly, with all the sensory information bombarding him was overwhelming. Roman crouched low as he took it all in, retreating into the safety of his wings – his wings! He had wings! The inner membrane was a rich red.  
Roman hid his head. He wanted to _scream._

He was a dragon.  
He was a _dragon.  
_He normally fought and… _defeated_ … dragons. Defeated them until they stopped breathing. He also often recounted these tales to his friends. His friends, who though that dragon-slaying was _cool.  
_He had to-  
He had to…  
Roman curled up tighter on himself.  
He didn’t know.  
He didn’t know what to do, and he was _absolutely terrified._  
He could feel a bubble of anxiety growing, swelling, crushing his chest, twisting his stomach. Roman forced himself to breathe. What was Virgil’s breathing exercise?  
In four counts? Hold seven counts? Out eight counts?  
Roman wasn’t sure if that was it, but he was past caring about the particulars.  
In four. Hold seven. Out eight. Repeat.

Slowly, Roman returned to himself. He shook himself out from head to tail to try and recentre himself. There was one thing that had become painfully obvious from this transformation.  
He hurt.  
All over. It felt like every sinew had been burnt and reformed. Every inch of him ached. Transformation spells, he inwardly growled, were never fun.  
What to do?  
First things first, he told himself sternly, was find the others. They’d help him.  
They would.

Roman found himself confronted with the next problem. Where in the blue blazes was he?  
Normally, this was no issue for him. The Imagination would shift around him, taking Roman exactly where he wanted to go with merely a thought. But with his control of the Imagination severed, that was out of the question.

Before him was a very thick, very tall tree. Taller than all the other trees around it. Roman looked up at it, and tried to smile. He recognised this tree, he was sure of it. He had placed these trees around the forest as a kind of waypoint for if his ability ever failed him, or if one of the others were here, separated, and lost. And by Jove, was he glad for it now.  
At least, he thought he recognised it. Roman paced around the base of the tree. He knew exactly what the dimensions would be in relation to his human form. Unfortunately, he didn’t exactly have that reference point at the moment. Still, he had a feeling. This tree was his ticket home. It seemed to be his only option. As Roman flexed his talons, dicing the soft grass beneath him testingly, he decided to put them to good use.

Roman reared up on his back legs, and latched his talons into the bark. Silently praying to any gods that might be listening that it wouldn’t break under him, Roman began to climb.

A couple branches had fallen during the ascent, but Roman successfully made it as high up as he dared. Looping his long body around the trunk to decrease his chances of falling, he stared out across the landscape. A smile stretched itself across his snout; relief pooled in his stomach. He knew where he was.

 

In front of him was a few kilometres of thick forest, before it opened out into rolling plains. In fact, from here Roman could just make out the white, gold and red of the door to his realm.  
The knot of anxiety in his gut was loosening. At this point, it was all he could ask for.  
He needed to get over there.  
And fast.  
Roman ruffled his wings.  
How hard could it be?

Very hard, was the answer. It took co-ordination Roman had quite literally never had before. He hadn’t left the tree yet. He merely experimented with flapping his new wings. Disjointed, out of sync and weak, there was no force in his flaps. But they got harder and more frantic as minutes passed. The longer he waited, the less likely his friends would be sticking around.  
If baby bird could do it, Roman thought determinedly, so could he.

Taking a shuddering breath, Roman crouched on a wide bough. He shook himself from head to tail. He ruffled his wings. He blinked, long and hard, before opening his eyes with cold determination.  
He launched himself into the air, spreading his wings.  
He barely caught himself. The sudden, unexpected tautness of his new wing muscles tore a cry out of his throat. He nearly faltered. He nearly plummeted.  
Nearly.  
Roman was nothing if not the most physically disciplined of all the Sides. He kept his wings outstretched. He rumbled in irritation through the pain.  
He glided out across the forest, as far as he could.

He had glided for a solid five minutes at least, putting the tearing burn of his wing muscles out of mind. He was fortunate to have found such a high vantage point to glide from, Roman decided. He must’ve covered at least one kilometre by now, but the canopy of the forest was getting nerve-wracking closer every second.  
He had two choices.  
Crash in to the trees and continue on foot, or try to fly higher.

Roman gritted his teeth, and _flapped his wings._  
A small sound of discomfort escaped him unwillingly. He pushed on. He beat the air, slamming his wings down. It hurt, so he was probably doing it wrong. Never the less, Roman would estimate he crept up a couple feet.  
Feeling a rush of triumph, Roman smiled into the wind. He could _do it._  
It didn’t matter anyhow, because he was already practically in the uneven treetops of the canopy.

Staying airborne _and_ steering was a bit much. Roman swerved around one tree, only to clip his left wing on another. He shrieked as he spiralled out of control, doing his best to tuck his limbs in tight to his body as he fell.  
His wing snagged on something as he fell.  
As gravity dragged him down, Roman felt the way it bent, the way it _wasn’t supposed to do that._  
Before he could register it; _snap._

All Roman could do was shriek, thrashing as _more pain_ flooded his senses. He wriggled himself free, and he was on the ground before he could blink.  
Unthinkingly, Roman threw his head back and _howled._  
He was crying. Dragons could cry and he was _crying_ , he just wanted to go home and see his family, he wanted someone to fix this, for once he didn’t want to be alone, someone help him, help him, _help him, please, please, please please please  
_“What was that!?” he heard a shout in the distance.  
“It sounded like a wounded animal,” someone replied.  
_It sounded like Patton and Logan.  
_Where was Virgil?  
“Pat, I don’t think running towards it is a great- hey, no, wait! Come back!”  
There was Virgil.  
Roman dragged himself to his feet, a flutter of hope rearing its head in his chest.  
He called out.  
It sounded a lot less friendly in a dragon’s mouth.

  
Roman forced himself onwards, towards the voices. He ignored all trepidation whispering  in his mind and forced himself onwards. It would be okay. His friends would help him.

To his surprise, the others were no longer in the forest, but out in the open meadow. They had crowded his lake of healing water.  
Things began to clunk together in his head.  
_Healing water.  
Broken wing.  
Relief.  
_He could see Patton running towards the treeline. Towards him.  
As soon Patton saw him, watched him freeze in terror as Roman emerged out of the treeline.  
Patton screamed.  
_“Logan!!”_

Instinctively, Roman drew back into the trees, hunkering down as Patton’s scream pierced his _soul._  
As the centre of emotions, Patton’s fear was so extremely potent that it could influence the rest of them. He saw Logan’s head snap towards them from where he had been tending to Virgil by the lakeside. Logan had been applying the healing water to what looked like a very nasty gash on Virgil’s arm.  
Roman felt a spike of guilt lance his gut. If he hadn’t let himself fall into the Dragon Witch’s grasp and leave his family without protection, Virgil wouldn’t’ve gotten hurt.

Roman ducked his head as Logan scrambled to his feet and to Patton’s side in an instant. The cold gleam of steel in Logan’s hand sent a shiver down his spine. At last, he tried to reason with himself, they aren’t unprotected.  
Patton hid behind Logan as the logical side slipped into a defensive stance. Despite everything, Roman felt a swell of pride. Logan _did_ remember those sparring lessons he’d given him! And his form was still impeccable.  
“Show yourself, beast,” Logan declared. His voice was even and calm, but beneath the surface there was some passionate emotion he couldn’t place.  
Something that scared Roman.  
None-the-less, Roman did as commanded. He slowly slunk out of the undergrowth, head low in a display of surrender. His broken wing dragged through the dirt behind him.  
Logan pointed the sword down at him pointedly, glaring. There was an unsettling detached air in his eyes.  
Roman was afraid.  
“Go stay with Virgil,” Logan ordered Patton, eyes not leaving the dragon. Patton hesitated for a beat, eyes darting between Logan and Roman, before running over to the lakeside to help Virgil.  
That left Logan and Roman.

Slowly, Roman straightened up, maintaining eye contact with Logan.  
Logan watched him with the same level of caution.  
Roman paused, frantically judging Logan’s body language to evaluate if he was going to lash out. Seeing that Logan remained still, Roman took a shaky step forward.  
The sword came up instantly.  
“Don’t move another muscle.”  
Roman recoiled, immediately shrinking in on himself. Oh, he’d made a mistake. This was not going to end well. He stared at Logan, silently begging, _pleading_ for him to understand.  
It went over the logical Side’s head, and Logan readjusted his grip on the sword pointedly.  
Roman shied away from the sword, revealing his broken wing.  
He nearly missed the rush of realisation in Logan’s eyes. It wasn’t the right kind of realisation; not yet. But he seemed to understand that Roman wasn’t hostile.  
“You’re the wounded animal we heard,” he murmured to himself.  
Roman’s head perked up, and he nodded vehemently.  
Logan started, obviously not expecting a response. “You… you can understand me?” he queried, surprised.  
Roman quickly nodded again, trying to fight the smile that was trying to creep onto his face.  
“Logan, it’s hurt!” Patton chimed from behind him, approaching them slowly.  
Roman blinked through the hurt of being referred to merely as an _‘it.’_  
“Patton, you cannot care for every creature you find,” Logan said, irritation in his voice. “Especially not one as dangerous as this.”  
_Dangerous creature.  
It._

As Logan and Patton delved into an argument, he tentatively began to creep around the pair. He just needed to get to the lake. That was all he needed right now.  
The logic was that if he moved slowly enough in their peripherals, they wouldn’t notice he had moved.  
Somehow, it seemed to work.  
The only Side watching him crawl pitifully towards the lake was Virgil.  
Virgil; with wide and afraid eyes. Mouth open to shout, breathing picking up in pace.  
Roman’s gut wrenched.  
“Wait, where’d it-”  
“There!”

He almost made a run for it.  
He didn’t, though, as it would probably only incite more violence.

The shouts startled him. Roman defensively threw his wings over his head instinctively, growling as loudly as he dared through the pain of jostling his wing.  
The one sound his mind honed in on, that he recognised instantly; it was unmistakeable; was the sound of steel singing through the air.  
It didn’t give him any time to prepare for it; before Logan’s sword sliced through his already broken wing and into his flank.

The howl of pain that tore itself from his mouth caused all the Sides to flinch. Logan jumped the hardest, taking the sword with him. Roman tried not to think about how he definitely heard the scrape of metal on bone. He couldn’t bite his lip in this form; he had no way to muffle any sounds of pain. The best he could settle for was shallow breaths whistling through clenched teeth.  
He dragged himself away, putting the trail of blood that blossomed out behind him like ink tipped across wet paper out of mind.  
Roman made a beeline for the far side of the lake, keeping as far away from Virgil as possible. He had no words, no way of saying who he was, that he didn’t want to hurt them, so all he could give them was distance.  
He snapped his teeth at Logan desperately, growling at him, hoping he’d understand it as a plea to _keep away_ than a threat.  
It hurt, it hurt, it _hurt.  
_But, he reminded himself grimly, he’d been through worse.

He crouched at the lakeside, eyeing the others across the water. Logan and Patton were protectively flanking Virgil, and they were all staring him down.  
_Why can’t you see it’s me? Why won’t you help me?  
_Those tears rushed back with no prompting.  
Roman put it out of mind as best he could. He slowly unfurled the broken wing, hissing as he did so. The bones should not be at those angles. The way the torn membrane hung limply off his wing arm like a ripped tapestry made him sick.  
Looking away, Roman lowered his wing into the water.  
The relief hit him like a wave. His talons tore up the grass beneath him as he tried to keep quiet, but for the first time all day, something felt _good.  
_“Roman said none of the constructs in his realm knew about this lake,” Logan said in a low voice. “So how do _you_ know?”  
Roman turned to them, and hope pooled in his stomach. He carefully gestured at himself, placing a paw deliberately on his own chest.  
“H-he… told you?” Patton tried.  
Roman blinked. He didn’t expect that. He shook his head slowly, and tapped his chest again.  
All he got were guarded looks of confusion.  
Roman sighed, and gave up on that approach. He lifted his wing from the water, and smiled. He flexed it a few times, assuring himself that everything was in working order, and folded it away. As his wet wing folded comfortably against his side, the healing water ran off the membrane and into the wound in his side Logan had left. The droplets sealed it with a glow. Roman jolted, lifting the wing again to peer at a new ropy scar which contrasted with his white-and-gold scales. Amidst everything, he’d somehow forgotten about it. Roman smiled, settling onto his haunches comfortably like a cat, and blinked at the others.  
They blinked back.  
“M-maybe it can help us find Roman?” Patton suggested to the others quietly. Roman’s face fell. He tried not to let the spark of hope he was clinging to so desperately die.  
_Why can’t you see it’s me, Pat?  
_Patton and Logan fell into quiet debate. Virgil was the only one who didn’t take his eyes off Roman, but this time with a confused frown.  
_Virgil! Virge, it’s me!  
_Roman tapped his chest again, hoping, _praying,_ it would work. Virgil’s frown only deepened.

The other two turned back to him. “Take us to Roman,” Logan commanded.  
Roman couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Logan’s tone. If it had been a real dragon, Logan wouldn’t’ve last another second acting like that.  
“Do you _know_ where he is?” Patton followed up hastily. His hands were clasping each other with a white-knuckle grip.  
Roman tilted his head in a way that meant both yes and no. How what he supposed to answer that?

He slowly approached the Sides, skirting around the lake. He stopped ten metres away, when Logan’s grip on his word was so painfully tight he was afraid that Logic was going to bust the tendons in his hand.  
“What do you mean by that?” he snapped.  
Roman impatiently tapped his talon on his chest again.  
_It’s me, you dolt!  
_Logan lifted the sword, his grip still so tight Roman could see the tendons standing out of his skin even from that distance.  
“Stop being cryptic!” Logan shouted. “Where is he?!”  
Was Logan… _upset?_  
Roman frantically tapped the ground.  
_Right here! I’m right here!  
_Logan took a step forward, frustration boiling over.  
Roman mirrored him. He _never_ listened, did he? He growled in irritation, prepared to butt heads just like he always did as Logan lifted the sword. Roman glared at Patton and Virgil. _  
Can’t you make him see?_  
He could see something whirring behind Virgil’s eyes, processing, calculating. Patton was still wringing his hands in fear, eyes trained on Logan.  
Roman tilted his head back in frustration, closing his eyes and huffing out a sigh.  
Logan took this the wrong way.

Logan took several angry steps towards Roman, stopping a mere few feet away. The sword was in his face. Alarm bells were ringing in Roman’s head.  
“If you don’t show us where Roman is,” the aspect of Logic growled. “I will _make you.”_  
Oh no.  
No, no, no, _no, no no no nononononono-  
_Roman felt panic claw at his throat. He tried to step back, but his co-ordination was still off and his tail tangled around his hind legs as he just tried to put distance between them. _“Lo-…han,”_ he tried, the vowels and consonants completely foreign in his new mouth. That was closest he could manage. _“Oh-mahn.”  
_“Roman! Where is he?!”  
The incomprehensible sounds coming out of Roman’s mouth refused to organise themselves into human words.  
The sword. The sword was inching ever closer, shaking in the grip of a passionate and desperate man.  
Roman could tell when a battle was for naught.  
He turned tail and _fled._

Spreading his wings frantically, Roman beat the air. Panic gave him height, and he was unexplicably airborne. Logan screamed something in frustration.  
Roman climbed higher, his whole being centred on _escape, safety, get me out of here.  
_Hic chest was aching, his wings were aching, his heart was aching, but this fight was lost.

Logan and Patton were shouting, Patton was down low and panicking. Logan was prepared to launch the sword. The wind picked up, buffeting the struggling dragon and whipping the others’ hair and clothes.  
That calculating look on Virgil’s eye hadn’t faded, until it suddenly morphed into realisation. Anxiety drew up to his full height and cupped his hands around his moth.  
_“ROMAN!”  
_Virgil’s shout deafened the others, cut through the wind, and for a breath, the whole world seemed to stop.  
The dragon swung around, suspending itself in the air as an unmistakeable spark of _hope_ flashed in its eyes.  
There was a moment of connection, of silent realisation where Roman and Virgil made eye contact. The white and gold scales glinted in the sun, like the armour Roman had conjured for himself, and all of a sudden the random splash of scarlet from shoulder to hip across his chest made _sense._  
_This_ was Roman.

Time began again.

_Thump._

The sword buried itself deep in Roman’s shoulder, severing _right through_ and the dragon fell from the sky with a very human-sounding scream.  
“Roman!” Virgil shouted again, horror pitting in his stomach. How? And why? And oh my god, the blood, and holy shit, _Roman._ Roman, _Roman-_  
He ran to the downed dragon, twisting out of the other’s grips as the dragon tried to force himself to his feet. The dragon was crying, Roman was crying.  
“What?!” Patton cried, covering his mouth in shock. His eyes darted all over the dragon, trying to piece it together.  
“Don’t be stupid,” Logan snapped harshly. “That’s isn’t Roman. Can’t be Roman.”  
Roman lifted his head slowly as Virgil fell to his knees beside him. Those eyes. Those warm, expressive, genuine brown eyes that sparkled up at Virgil in utter _pain_ were unmistakeable.  
“Roman,” Virgil breathed, taking the dragon’s head in his hands tenderly, eyes searching for answers. “What the fuck happened, dude?”  
As Roman slowly and painfully shrugged, Patton took a few, hesitant steps closer.  
“R-Ro?” he asked tentatively.  
Roman turned his head towards him, eyes soft. He smiled, a vaguely threatening barring of teeth but still kind, and nodded.  
Patton’s eyes filled with tears, and the Side began to rush over.  
“But that doesn’t make _sense!”_ Logan screamed.  
Everyone turned to look at him. The Side had tears he didn’t understand streaming down his face, and panicked denial in his eyes. “W-we just… It can’t be! W-we just have to… t-to get out of here!” he continued, head in his hands, tugging frantically at his hair.  
Roman’s face fell. His realm didn’t often have good effects on Logan.  
He liked to hide the door from the eye for the sake of immersion, but Logan needed out _right now._  
Ignoring Virgil trying to pull him over to the lake, Roman drew up to his full height and scanned the meadow. The door was always there. He just had to reveal it.

Less than a kilometre away, he could see the distinctive white-red-and-gold outline of the exit to his realm. With a tired blink, he revealed it, watching it melt into existence. Patton gasped in relief. Virgil smiled thinly, but the concern for Logan overrode any relief.  
Roman lumbered over to Logan, who had fallen to his knees. Gently, he nudged his shoulder with his snout, making Logan look up. Roman direct his gaze to the door in the distance gently by nudging Logan’s chin up with his nose.  
Logan stared at the door, mind processing this information. There was a beat of silence.  
Finally, Logan’s eyes wandered back to the dragon before him. “Roman?” he finally whispered.  
Through the distress, through the pain, the exhaustion, Roman’s eyes lit up in relief. _“Lo-…han,”_ he repeated carefully, the consonants foreign behind his large fangs.  
Logan’s lip wobbled, before he threw his arms around Roman’s sinuous neck and buried his face in the scales, sobbing. Roman curled his head down, and brought his good wing around him in a clumsy approximation of a hug as Logan clung to him.

In Logan’s arms, Roman began to glow. Ribbons of star-like light wove through the air around him. Logan stared, but still clung to Roman as if he was petrified that if he let the prince go, he’d disappear forever.  
Roman could feel the _burn_ of the transformation spell come crashing down again. He shone; shone like the star it felt like was exploding inside of him. With no filter for pain, it was all Roman could do to throw back his head and _howl._  
Logan threw himself away before he burned too badly.

The agony of being reshuffled more than once per day made his voice give out. The air was filled with broken, raspy sobs. But as the light faded, Roman collapsed forward onto his very human knees.

Coughing roughly, Roman’s hands flew to his face, his hair, his throat, reassuring himself, _reminding himself_ he was here, he was alright, he was _human_ as the others stared. Looking up at them, Roman opened his mouth to speak, and something hot and wet dribbled out past his lips. Roman looked down in time to see whatever it was stain his white jacket red. Finally looking down, he acknowledged the elephant in the room.  
“Ah,” he mumbled as he observed the sword sticking out through his shoulder.  
“Roman…” he heard Logan begin.  
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Roman slurred, gripping the sword with his good hand. “Happens all the time.”  
Before anyone could protest, Roman pulled it out.  
He chose to ignore the slither of metal on bone, but the sounds of someone desperately trying not to vomit drew a wince of sympathy from him.

Roman forced himself to his feet, using the bloody sword as a prop, and began to stumble towards the healing pool. Logan watched him. As their eyes made contact, Roman tried to decipher the rush of thoughts racing behind Logan’s eyes. He looked on the verge of a panic attack.  
Calmly, gently, Roman approached the Side and placed a hand on his shoulder. He pointed out the door. “Go,” he said through a mouthful of blood. “I’ll meet you there.”  
Logan turned back in an instant. There of a flash of pure, unadulterated _panic_ in his eyes. Like he didn’t believe him.  
Roman self-consciously wiped blood off his chin. He must look on death’s door. “I promise,” he reassured the logical side. “So go save yourself now.”

At Roman’s prompting, Patton led Logan out of the Imagination with little protest. Virgil managed to catch the staggering prince before Roman collapsed, and supported him on his way to the healing lake.  
“How do we do this?” Virgil asked, trying his best not to freak out at the amount of blood Roman had lost.  
Roman was too dizzy to formulate a reply. Instead, he simply twisted out of Virgil’s grip and let himself fall.

Roman hit the water back-first with an enormous splash. Virgil screamed in panic, and froze for the briefest second. The sight of Roman’s limp form in the water, however, was enough to spur him into action. Virgil jumped in right after him.  
As Virgil’s hoodie fanned out around him, he surfaced, spluttering. His hair covered his eyes, and he frantically pawed it out of the way. He hated water in his eyes, and did his best to scrub them dry. Roman, Roman, where was Roman? It was hard to keep his head up; he wasn’t a strong swimmer. He did his best to tread water, but Virgil was struggling. His clothes were wet and heavy. He gasped at the exertion, doing his best to scan the water for his friend but it felt like he was about to slip below the surface at any second, and god knew how deep the lake was.  
Suddenly, strong arms laced around his chest and tipped Virgil onto his back so he had the space to breathe. He could feel a body under his, keeping him afloat, supporting him, and he heard Roman say, “I got you, Virge. I got you.”  
Roman. He was alright, and he was saving him. Before he knew it the prince was heaving him up onto the bank, out of the water. Virgil coughed his lungs clear as Roman lifted himself out of the water, and plonked himself down next to him. As Virgil pushed his sopping wet hair out of his eyes, he glared at the prince. “What the actual fuck, Princey,” he snapped. “First the dragon thing, then you had a fucking sword in you, and then I thought you drowned!”  
Roman shook his head. “Theoretically, it’s impossible to drown in a lake of healing water,” he offered, focussing on what he decided was the least important of the three points Virgil had raised.  
“Theoretical, schmeoretical,” Virgil growled, punching Roman in the arm with no force.  
Roman deflated, and flopped back onto the grass. With a snap of his fingers, he replaced his and Virgil’s clothes with dry, clean and blood-free ones. Virgil jumped as his hair drifted over his eyes, now dry and soft like he’d used the most expensive shampoo he could find.  
“…Thanks,” he said, looking down at Roman, who looked like he was about to pass out.  
“No…” Roman yawned, covering it with a hand. “No problem,” he finished. “Can we go now?”  
Virgil nodded, and got to his feet.  
He went to walk away before he noticed the prince hadn’t moved yet. He was about to chide Roman, but seeing his expression – the prince was warring with himself to try and sit up – he felt a rush of sympathy. Virgil stood over him offered his hand. Roman looked up at it tiredly, before reaching out and gripping it firmly. He let Virgil heave him to his feet with a groan.

Virgil had been dreading the long walk to the door, but with Roman, they were there in an instant. Roman pushed the door open and ushered Virgil through. Virgil let himself be coerced, but kept an eye on the prince on his wobbly legs. Roman shut the door firmly, pausing with his hand on its surface as he closed his eyes to gather himself.  
Virgil managed to catch him just in time as Roman simply collapsed.

When Roman came to, he was on the sofa with a fluffy grey blanket tucked right up to his chin. Patton sat with Roman’s head in his lap, smoothing his hair comfortingly. Virgil sat on the floor by his knees, eyes fixed on the TV pointedly as a distraction to keep himself calm. Logan sat in a nearby armchair, holding up a book he wasn’t actually reading. Every few seconds his eyes darted to the screen, and back down to his pages. Occasionally, his eyes slid over to Roman, and thus it was Logan who first noticed that he was awake.  
As Roman slowly blinked into awareness, he slowly set down his book. Patton noticed the movement, and paused his ministrations, smiling down at the prince. Virgil glanced up, before quickly fumbling with the remote to pause the program.  
Roman sat up, yawning widely, and tried not to wince as he ached all over. But never the less, he shifted in his seat until he sat next to Patton rather than against him.  
“Hey,” Patton started softly, putting an arm around his shoulders and squeezing gently. “Good morning, Roman.”  
Roman blinked at him. “Morning,” he mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He shivered in the cold of the room, and he noticed that someone had swapped out his prince regalia for far lighter pyjamas. Considerate. He smiled, and pulled the blanket up around his shoulders and curled into Patton. He hoped he didn’t mind. He still felt unsettled – and he wasn’t sure why. Thankfully, Morality didn’t mind, only drawing him closer. Virgil turned and faced them, sitting cross-legged. He fiddled with the remote in his hands. Logan straightened the book he just set down, before folding his hands in his lap.  
“Good morning, Roman,” he offered formally.  
Roman was feeling more awake. He nodded at Logan with a smile. “Hey, Specs,” he greeted. Then his eyes softened. “You feeling better?”  
Logan glanced at Virgil, who caringly rolled his eyes and addressed Roman. “We were wondering the same about you, really,” he drawled.  
Roman’s face dropped, and he unwittingly shrunk in on himself. Patton hugged him again. “Hey, hey,” he cooed. “It’s okay, Roman. You’re good. You’re absolutely, one-hundred percent safe. I pinkie promise.”  
Roman looked up at him sharply, to tell him that he wasn’t worried about that; he hadn’t felt more safe in his life! He was fretting over nothing. But one look at Patton’s sweet smile made those indignant protests fall from his lips and back into his stomach. Something in Patton’s eyes looked right through him, through his little façade and straight into the trembling child in Roman’s soul that he was trying to hide. Roman opened his mouth to reply, but all he could do was take a sharp breath in to prevent anything unwanted escaping. Like tears.  
Roman lay his head back down on Patton’s shoulder, and after a beat, wrapped his free arm around Patton’s middle in the roughest approximation of a hug he could manage in his position. Patton brought his other arm around, enveloping him in the smell of what Roman could only describe as family. Patton let Roman bury his face in his shirt, let Roman hide from the world for just a beat as he mumbled, “Thanks, padre.”

When he finally felt brave enough to emerge from Patton’s shirt, he turned to see two pairs of expectant brown eyes staring him down. Roman shifted uncomfortably, and for once in his life, he wished their attention was elsewhere.  
“Roman,” Logan started, and Roman knew that tone. It was the ‘I-want-answers-and-I-want-them-now’ tone. “What _happened,_ yesterday?”  
Roman elected to ignore the crack in Logan’s voice. He knew Logan had had a rough time too.  
“Where did you go?” Virgil added, maybe to clarify. “What did that witch do to you?”  
Instead of clarifying, the added questions felt like they swamped him. Roman’s grip on the blanket tightened, and he closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe.  
In four, hold seven, out eight, repeat.

When he opened his eyes, he immediately felt awful at the sight of the visible guilt on Virgil and Logan’s faces. “I-I’m sorry,” Roman forced out quickly. “I just… I need to start, uh, small. One question at a time. Please.” He punctuated his sentence with a nervous smile.  
“Of course,” Logan said with a curt nod. “Can we start at the beginning?”  
“A very good place to start,” Roman quipped, electing a chuckle from Patton and groans and eyerolls from the others. Roman laughed a little too, but took that moment of empty space to organise his thoughts. And he began from the beginning.

His storyteller voice came out without prompting, and from the get go, he had them ensnared. As he began to describe the transformation, he watched the colour drain from Virgil’s face. The words dried up in his mouth, and Roman felt like there was ash on his tongue. He coughed, masking his face with a fist as he turned away. Instead of continuing on explaining how painful it was, he merely finished with, “It was… intense. And I blacked out.”  
He went on to explain the forest. The discovery. He could see the curiousity in Logan’s eyes as he tried to explain how he attempted to teach himself to fly. He could feel Patton whimper sympathetically as he tried to avoid describing in detail how he felt at being abandoned (he didn’t explicitly use that word, but despite his best efforts, he suspected the others knew what he meant), and he did his best to merely summarise the injuries for Virgil. The broken wing. He could feel the ghost-ache of it in his left forearm even now. “I’m sorry I didn’t get back sooner,” he finished. “I’m sorry I went down so quickly. I’m sorry I hid the door. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out any sooner, and I’m sorry tha-”  
Patton’s hand clapped over his mouth, not in a malicious way, but merely cut off his rant.  
Roman looked up at him as Patton removed his hand and placed a small kiss into his temple. “Don’t apologise,” he stated firmly. “You had no control over any of that. No reason to suspect any of that would happen.”  
Roman opened his mouth to protest.  
“It’s not your fault,” Logan interrupted. “And with… what happened to me… I was also aware of the possible effects of your domain on me, and I went in, acknowledging the risks.” Logan’s eyes softened as Roman’s gaze locked onto him. “It’s no more your fault than it is mine,” he informed the prince. Roman swallowed hard, and tears he’d been fighting rushed forward. “You were scared,” he said, to all of them. “You got hurt, and I wasn’t there to protect you.”  
“And we weren’t there to protect _you,”_ Virgil rebuked, laying a hand on the blanket next to Roman’s knee, but not touching him directly. “You don’t always have to shepherd us, you know.”  
“We can be there for you, too,” Patton continued.  
“Or,” Logan haltingly corrected, flushing with guilt. “We can try.”  
“It’s not your fault!” Roman shouted, suddenly pulling away from Patton and sitting upright. His posture was straight, and his expression firm. “Stop making it sound like it is! It was the Dragon Witch! And who’s imagination is the Dragon Witch an extension of?”  
The bitter question hung in the air. There was no response for a moment.  
“Thomas’?” Virgil offered, probably in an attempt to break the tension.  
Roman glared at him. “We are not dragging Thomas into this,” he snapped.  
“And we are not pinning the subconscious influences of a number of external factors on constructs of the Imagination on _you_ , Roman,” Logan replied, steepling his fingers like a college professor at his desk. “Whilst you have ultimate control of the Imagination, we all, even the… _other_ Sides, can influence it slightly. Because it is, first and foremost, Thomas’ Imagination.” He looked down at his hands, examining his perfectly manicured fingernails. Virgil did his best to smile. “It’s not a blame game, alright?” he said. “We aren’t blaming you, and you aren’t blaming us. There’s literally no one here we can blame this whole thing on, so let’s just… _not._ ”  
“We just want to make sure you’re okay, kiddo,” Patton finished. The others nodded resolutely as Roman relaxed.  
“That’s… very kind of you,” Roman mumbled.  
“It’s what family does,” Patton told him firmly. “Because we love you. Right, guys?”  
The others blanched at _admitting it,_ but Virgil forced himself to nod. “You’re, um…” he laughed a little at himself a he desperately tried to keep this positive. “You’re… _bearable?”  
_“I’ll take it,” Roman giggled in response.  
Logan ran his fingernails across the pad of his thumb, and took a moment to say, “Life without you would not be optimal.”  
Roman snorted at the floor, but met Logan’s eyes and smiled. “Thanks, Specs,” he said, knowing that was the best he’d get out of them, and that was okay. He let himself relax back into the seat, into Patton’s embrace, and shut his eyes for a moment.  
“You tired, Ro?”  
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Is it okay if I…” he yawned before he could piece the last of that sentence together.  
“You sleep, kiddo,” Patton interpreted with a smile, and another soft kiss on the forehead. “We’ll have some food for you when you wake up, okay? Want me to stay?”  
Part of him wanted to say no. That he was fine, and didn’t need some guardian. But he was too tired to neglect that child in his soul that only wanted his father.  
“Please,” he sighed as he cuddled up to Patton, the veil of sleep drawing him down. He felt Patton rest his head against his as he drifted off. “You got it, Roman” Patton said softly. “Sweet dreams. Love ya, kiddo.”  
As he slipped under, Roman didn’t get to reply, but that knot of tension in his chest faded away with a swell of happiness, and he felt like he’d never slept more soundly in his life.


End file.
